


Tell Me I May

by hegemony



Category: Luther (TV), Ultraviolet (TV)
Genre: F/M, Stealth Crossover, Vampire Sex, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-14
Updated: 2012-04-14
Packaged: 2017-11-03 15:19:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/382874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hegemony/pseuds/hegemony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She knows who he really is. And still she wants, if only to see just how much he's changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell Me I May

**Author's Note:**

  * For [toesohnoes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/toesohnoes/gifts).



> Add-on to _that_ scene in the middle of 2.2, so you'll at least have to be up into the second season to really get this. Also, this will make far more sense if you've ever seen 'Ultraviolet', wherein Idris Elba played a paramilitary soldier-cum-viral vampire hunter. No, seriously. I don't think you'll miss much if you've never seen it, but you should just to see some hella camp. You can see a good ridiculous introduction to the series [here.](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b45fBeGIOf4)
> 
> Overgrown comment-fic meant for the April 2012 'Five Acts' meme with the prompts 'Vampires, Endearments' and maybe a little bit of 'Posession', too.

"What are you afraid of, Alice?" 

"Not much. Just like going fast, after the last few weeks. Meep, Meep," she says once more, as she spreads herself out against him. John Luther is quite a curious man, the kind of man she'd ache to turn if only, _only_ he'd give in. He doesn't. 

And still, his hands hold her close, shaping around her hips. What a pretty picture they make together, in the dereliction of his flat. His heart is beating hard- she can hear it, feel it thudding against her hand. The blood through is veins so fresh and full of adrenaline, her favorite flavor. 

"I know who you are," he says with meaning in a way she hasn't heard him speak before. "And you know why I can't go through that again." 

"Oh," she smiles, a hot whisper, "and the truth comes out. _Vaughan_ , darling."

"You have no right to call me that," he hisses. 

"Which one?" She asks, breathlessly. 

"Alice," John warns. "I'm not him, not anymore." 

She knows that, knows it in the fact that she's alive. The old him would have shot her on sight, put her in a can. "And when did you figure me out, darling?" 

"I had my inklings."

"Be truthful." 

"Zoe," John groans, turns away. The long column of his neck shines dark in the dim light. "That last night when she'd..." 

(Zoe had been so afraid at first, but went so willingly once she'd been sunk. Alice's parasitic venom has always been conducive to mind control, and it had been so easy to drink her fill and whisper in Zoe's ear after. 

_"Go to him"_ , she'd said. _"You need him."_

Zoe had sobbed, sang so beautifully as she'd fallen apart under Alice's hands and words, under her fangs. _"I do. Oh god, I do."_

After, Alice watched from the rooftop as Luther had peeled back the sheets in his too-purple flat, and taken her pleasure from watching them fuck. It had been quite the homecoming. Literally.) 

Her hand slithers up from his chest to his neck, the back of his head. She holds him close. "She was fantastic. But we both know you'll taste better, don't we? I've heard the stories of you and your more militant days. But you've changed, haven't you? You set me free from my cage…even though you knew what I was you let me _fly_. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were fond of me." 

Oh, and there's that telltale shiver. She almost wishes she could watch his eyes fill with fear in a way she's never seen. His breath hitches with hatred and he's ready to push her away, and she knows it but there's something that holds them together, curious thing this is. 

"You'll let us have you once more, won't you?" she asks. She runs her fingernails through his curly hair, hears his heart beat in double-triple time. "We'll always be together like this. You won't have to run, you'll just have to think." 

"I don't…" 

"Au contraire, John," Alice hisses. " _Vaughan._ I know you do and so I'm asking you politely. Be with me." 

"Since when do your kind ask for consent?" he asks, pushing her away by the hips. She holds onto his shoulders and she wants to laugh, they look like an overgrown parody of a Sadie Hawkins' dance. 

She smiles, running her tongue against her teeth. "Times have changed, my dear. Since your war on 'my kind' is over. I've learned how to make it more pleasurable for you, as well. You deserve as much, darling."

He leans back against the wall. Her lips settle back into a closed-mouth smile. He picks up a hand, sweeps it over his face like he's listening to the devil and angel on his shoulders. She takes the opportunity to crowd around him again. He crumples against her like a piece of paper. 

"Alice," he whispers. His hands tighten against her and he pushes his head backward once more and she reaches out and kisses him, pushes her mouth against his. The first taste of his tongue, after months of waiting, is insatiable and dangerous and so very, very sweet. And she can feel the line of his erection in the space between their bodies and she'll take care of that later. She must take care of this first. 

She tips his head upward, kisses along the cut of his jaw, down over his adam's apple, over the line of his collarbone as it peeks out of his shirt. 

"Tell me I may, darling," she whispers. 

"Yes." He clutches her even tighter, waits a beat, and groans it like a gunshot. "Yes, of course." 

The words sound shockingly strong for a man who would have thought this whole process were despicable a few years back. She smiles, lets the anticipation build before she lowers her mouth to his neck, tongue laving against the old scar of a bite on his skin. She bites him neat, a few centimeters away from the old wound. His blood tastes decadent, fizzling with all his hatred and anger and arousal. He leans into her mouth, so she drinks more than she should. She wants to undress him, drag her fangs over the planes of his chest and thighs, please herself with him. 

She's unnerved when she backs away, lips willingly wet with his blood. She wonders if it enrages him, if the time it takes for him to look her in the eye is spent thinking of just how far he's fallen. It's okay, she thinks, she's never wanted to spend time picking someone back up once more. Not like she does now.

"Come with me," she whispers. 

"You...I can't," he says, leaning in to take her hand and lead her somewhere. The bedroom, she guesses. Funny, there was a time where she wondered what it would be like to be entangled with him. Now, she doesn't even have to suggest. He may tell her no, he may even kill her, but she doesn't have to suggest that he lick the blood off her lips, dive into her mouth, or slide a hand just under her dress. She wonders who made him run so far away from the life he once lived. 

"You and I have always been the same, Darling," she smiles. "You just didn't realize it."

The bedroom is cold, the bed low to the floor. The sheets are just rumpled enough to look lived-in, slept-in. She wonders what his life will be like once he doesn't need sleep. She wonders if he'll miss it. 

He unzips her dress. She lets it fall to the floor, pool at her feet. She stands in her underwear, her back to him as he slides a hand up her back to undo her bra. He presses his mouth to the skin of her shoulder, too-sensitive new fangs biting down hard. Yes, she thinks, her virus (no, _their_ virus) has taken this time. 

She knows she can't stay, just like she knows he won't go. They roll over and join, her surrounding him surrounding her. He splits her right down the middle, and she can't help but think she's gotten exactly what she wants. 

That he's given her exactly what she wants.


End file.
